


Clean Eyes

by laurapora95



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Demon/Human Relationships, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Romance, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26076961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurapora95/pseuds/laurapora95
Summary: Crowley and Gender Neutral Reader, demon/human pairing.Takes place during the Good Omens TV series timeline. Sometime before the end of the world.A series of loosely connected one shots involving Crowley, Aziraphale, and a human they are quite fond of.*IMPORTANT* I'm a bit slow on the uptake, but I recently learned that Neil Gaiman confirmed all angels and demons of the Good Omens universe to be non-binary. I have updated their pronouns in my story to match. Please (kindly) let me know if you notice any misgenderings!
Relationships: Crowley (Good Omens)/Reader, Crowley (Good Omens)/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	1. An Auspicious Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of my inspiration for this series came while listening to SYML, particularly the songs: Clean Eyes and Break Free. The lyrics are so befitting of Crowley and I highly recommend giving them a listen!

Fingers drifting across the spines of books older than you could realistically fathom, you breathed in the familiar scent of your favorite spot on Earth. Aziraphale’s book shop.

It was a wonder, no, a miracle, that such a place existed a mere ten minutes from your apartment building. You had become such a frequent visitor that a tentative friendship had formed between you and Azriaphale, more affectionately known as “Az”.

Your patronage did not come in the form of currency, Az would not allow it. So rarely did they sell a book that it led you to question their understanding of the entire concept. Still, the two of you had come to an agreement.

You loved knowledge for the sake of it and treated books with a sort of devout respect. Once you had earned their trust, Az established a loan system. You were granted the esteemed privilege of choosing a book to care for until you had managed to extract every ounce of information from it to sate your mind. Upon returning to the shop you were tasked with discussing said book, in painstaking detail, with Az over tea and biscuits.

It was quite a pleasant arrangement.

Today, as usual, the shop was nearly empty. You took your time. The selection process could not be rushed. Having a book choose you was a very special occasion.

In the reverent quiet of the space, the sound of the door swinging open was loud enough to draw your attention. From behind several shelves you watched as a strange person with an affinity for black leather sauntered in.

They were tall, all legs and shoulders, with a shock of red hair. Dark lenses obscured their gaze and added to the “devil may care” persona they so obviously wanted to portray. All of these features put together were too much and you couldn’t help it. You laughed.

They paused mid stride as your muffled amusement reached his ears.

“Something funny, sweetheart?”

You could have sworn there was a glint beneath their shades.

Hands fluttering by your sides, you shrugged, “Oh, nothing really--do you, erm, always walk like that?”

“Like what, exactly?” Came their sharp reply.

Aziraphale drifted in and cut the tension with an excited smile.

“So, you two have finally met! How lovely.”

“You know this irritating human?” The stranger turned now to what could only be described as their antithesis. The difference between the two could not be more apparent, yet you sensed they shared far more in common than their appearances suggested.

“Now, really, there is no need for such hostility.” Aziraphale gave him a meaningful look.

“It’s all right, Az, I was just heading out anyway,” you said, suppressing a smirk, "Nothing for me today, I’m afraid.”

You exchanged a peck on the cheek with your friend, much to the red headed person’s discomfort.

“Oh, do come back soon my dear. I’m sure you will find what you are looking for next time.”

“I always do,” you beamed, “pleasure to meet you--”

“Crowley,” they muttered, refusing to look at you.

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around,” you replied and gave a small wave before exiting the shop.

"Don’t tell me you’re friends with that one.”

Aziraphale frowned, “I don’t see anything the matter with it. They make delightful company, and it is so rare to find someone who truly appreciates books in the same manner as I do--”

“Bo-ring,” Crowley interrupted.

“Always so quick to pass judgement,” they tutted, “though, I do believe you shall change your mind about this one.”

The demon sneered, “Wipe that smile off your face right now, Angel.”


	2. A Celestial Secret

“So what’s the deal with you and that Crowley character?” 

You gave Aziraphale a discerning stare over the rim of your teacup.

“B-beg your pardon?” They stammered, hand frozen over the biscuit tray.

“Well, you two aren’t exactly inconspicuous with your--” you gestured vaguely, “lifestyle choices. I’ve noticed things, Az.”

They let out a nervous chuckle, and their sapphire gaze would not focus on you.

“At first I thought you an eccentric, which is entirely fine, but there are certain books here in your shop that you couldn’t possibly have attained through normal means.”

Setting your cup aside you leaned forward and spoke with confidence, “Then Crowley arrived and the rest of the puzzle fell into place. Imagine you hanging around with someone like them, well, that just doesn’t add up. Unless, of course, you had a very good reason to do so--”

With every word Az seemed to retreat further back into the cushioned armchair. 

“You must be working together, I’m sure of it. No doubt you have yourselves a nice little arrangement.”

Sitting back with a smirk, you reveled in the look of guilt on your friend’s face. You had no intention of outing them. In all honesty, you hadn’t the faintest idea what was actually afoot. You just happened to be very good at convincing Az that you did.

Still there was a secret between these two, and when it came to retrieving information you weren’t above telling a little white lie. 

Just as Aziraphale seemed on the verge of admission there came the sound of overly deliberate footsteps in the shop. Crowley rounded the corner and let out a pointed sigh at the sight of you and Az sitting together.

“What are they doing here?” 

“I could ask you the same thing, sweetheart,” you smiled, taking in the view.

Upon second appraisal you decided you could appreciate their sense of style. They were unique in much the same way that Az was, unabashedly so.

Aziraphale seized the opportunity, springing out of their chair, “I do apologize, my dear, I entirely forgot Crowley and I have an important matter to discuss.”

“Of course,” you stood and made your way out of the room, “I’ll just be browsing in the front.” 

“Oh, and when you are ready to tell me, Az,” you called out over your shoulder, “mum’s the word.”

__________

“Mum’s the word? Really?” Crowley frowned, “No one even says that anymore.”

They settled into one of the vacated armchairs, stretching out their long limbs.

“Crowley, we have a situation.” Aziraphale whispered, “[Y/N] is far more keen than I had originally surmised. They have become aware of our true natures.”

The demon shrugged, “So?”

Aziraphale stamped their foot in frustration, “This hardly calls for nonchalance! Being friendly with a human is one thing, but if they are wise to the extent of our abilities the consequences could be disastrous!”

“Well, if it has you that bothered I can just make them forget all about meeting us.” Crowley held up their fingers, prepared to snap.

“No! No, no-” Aziraphale pouted, “I like them far too much for that. It would be a shame to lose such a splendid companion.”

“Screw it, then,” they replied, “Just tell them, consequences be damned. There can’t be much harm in it since, according to you, they already know.”

The angel hesitated, wringing their hands together.

“Plenty of humans have found us out before,” Crowley pointed out, “and you trust this one, right?”

Aziraphale nodded his head several times, expression hopeful.

Crowley raised their arms, “That’s settled then. What’s one more enlightened human among the masses? It’s not as if they’re going to change anything.”


	3. A Startling Revelation

“An Angel and a Demon?” Your eyes darted back and forth between the two otherworldly beings that sat before you. “Well, that is most decidedly not what I was expecting.”

With a loud exhale you slumped backwards in your seat, feeling as though a lead weight had dropped into your stomach.

“Are you all right?” Aziraphale asked, concerned that you might grow faint.

“Oh, yes, of course,” you waved a dismissive hand, “I was thinking more along the lines of black market dealers, connections to underground crime rings, that sort of thing. Angels and Demons, what a relief! At least I can rest easy tonight with the knowledge that neither of you will try to slit my throat for asking too many questions--”

You stood and began pacing, running your hands through your hair and muttering about your inability to mind your own business.

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance. 

“I’m beginning to think I may have overestimated their understanding of the situation,” Az confessed, looking sheepish.

“You don’t say?” Crowley was far less concerned, and rather amused by your reaction. You were currently hugging a couch cushion to your chest and drawing in deep breaths. 

“We can still take it back,” they raised their hand.

Aziraphale quickly nudged it away, “Just give them a moment.”

Tossing the pillow aside, you focused your attention on the duo once more.

“So, it’s all real then? The Bible? All that nonsense about an Ark and pillars of salt? Adam and Eve? The Snake?”

Crowley seemed to smirk at your last question.

“Indeed,” Az replied, “We were there for all of it.”

You gaped, and then frowned, “As an atheist, I find that very disappointing.”

A low chuckle escaped the demon’s throat, and they smiled. It was the first time you managed to elicit a positive response from Crowley. Your heart started to beat noticeably faster.

“You are not the first to feel that way,” Az soothed, “most humans are secular these days. It is actually quite fortunate for us as it makes blending in far easier.”

You smiled, thinking that these two couldn’t possibly stand out more if they tried. Then again, sprouting wings in Central London might draw some attention.

Resuming your seat, you toyed with a loose thread on your sweater.

“So, you two have been friends since the beginning?”

“More or less,” Crowley murmured.

“Well, that’s rather sweet,” you beamed at them, “and you work together?”

“Not strictly speaking,” Az dusted some unseen dirt from their spotless coat, “My job is to perform miracles, and Crowley’s is, well--”

“Creating disasters, causing mayhem and general unrest,” they shrugged.

“Somewhere along the way we decided that it would be a more efficient use of our time if one of us were to carry out both duties here and there,” the Angel said with great reluctance.

You laughed, “That’s brilliant! An Angel and a Demon keeping the karmic forces in balance. And they--” you pointed one finger down and the other towards the ceiling, “haven’t noticed?”

“You’d be surprised with how much we can get away with,” Crowley said proudly.

Aziraphale glared at them, and turned to you their voice pleading, “We do have your word on this, correct? You won’t reveal our secret?”

“Oh, Az, who would I tell? Who would even believe me? I’m not entirely sure I believe myself at the moment. If I wake up tomorrow and you two still exist then I can be certain this isn’t a dream, but either way I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

Aziraphale sighed, feeling very relieved that they would be able to keep their current lifestyle and your friendship.

You reached out, clasping the Angel’s hands in your own. 

“Thank you ever so much for trusting me, Az, it means the world.”

They beamed, “Of course, my dear, I do hope this does not alter your perception of me as your friend.”

“Not in the least,” you assured them, and turned to Crowley, “Thanks to you as well, for trusting me.”

“Don’t mention it,” they grumbled, “seriously.”

You suppressed a grin, “So what was it like, then? The beginning of time?”


	4. A Devilish Affection

Normalcy resumed soon after you received the bombshell that had altered your entire perception of Earth and its history. 

You were, understandably, a bit nervous at first. You startled easier when spending time in the book shop. Being in close proximity to an Angel reminded you of all the times you had cursed God for a flat tire, traffic jam, or some other minor inconvenience. Not that it mattered much to Aziraphale, your blaspheme had never stirred them up before. They were probably used to it after spending 6,000 years with a Demon.

Crowley made you uneasy as well, but not for the same reasons. If they were real then Hell was too. Not a comforting thought. Still, Aziraphale considered them a close friend which meant they couldn’t be all bad. Crowley was short-tempered, rude, irritable, and crass but evil seemed like a bit of a stretch. 

To their credit, Az and Crowley tried to act as if nothing had happened. At times it even seemed like they were going out of their way to ease your anxious disposition, which you were extremely grateful for. The fact that a Demon and an Angel enjoyed, or in Crowley’s case tolerated, your presence was nothing to scoff at.

After a month or so you began to see them as just two people you fancied being around, rather than a pair of winged creatures with an unthinkable amount of power and the means to alter the events of time.

One particularly quiet afternoon found you browsing in Aziraphale’s shop. You were still in search of your next book, patiently waiting for it to happen upon you. That was when it caught your eye. There, on the fifth shelf up, a small faded blue hardcover beauty beckoned to you. Stretching out your arm and rising up on your toes you tried to reach for it, but it was no use.

You wouldn’t go so far as to consider yourself short, but you were certainly no match for Aziraphale’s towering shelves. You pouted, hands on your hips, and contemplated getting a ladder when a hand reached out above you and grasped the book.

You spun around, finding yourself face to shoulder with Crowley. Their shaded gaze stared you down, expression unreadable. 

“Here,” they held the book out to you.

You took it, a slight tremble in your hands. Having them so close had caused a shiver to run through you despite the cozy atmosphere of the store. The more time you spent near Crowley the more you noticed the peculiar effect they had on you. It was one you didn’t think appropriate to entertain.

“Thanks very much.” 

They sneered, and took a step back. “What have I told you about thanking me?”

You placed a hand under your chin, feigning contemplation, “To do it as often as possible?”

“Oh, shut it, human,” they sauntered off, leaving you a tad breathless.

__________

It started slowly, your affection for the demon. Their image would invade your thoughts at odd hours of the day. You found yourself looking forward to their appearances at the book shop. The biting sarcasm, cheeky comments, even that ridiculous walk, you loved it all. It was no wonder Aziraphale had become so fond of them over time.

You knew how ridiculous it was, having a crush on a demon. That didn’t stop your heart from racing whenever they got too close.

Eventually you decided there was no harm in it since you had no intention of acting on your feelings. Surely, they would pass.

A few weeks later you made up your mind to do something nice for the two of them. They had been so accommodating of you and it felt the proper thing to return the favor. You were an amateur baker, biscuits being your specialty, and you spent the afternoon covered in flour until you produced enough treats to feed an army. 

The look of delight on Aziraphale’s face made your heart melt when you handed them the tin of sweets. You left the second one in the book shop with a note that read, “For the Demon”.

Crowley arrived later that same day to find Aziraphale munching contentedly on the few remaining biscuits.

“Where did you get those?” They asked, regarding them with mild curiosity.

“Oh, [Y/N] made them! They’re simply scrumptious. They baked a tin for you as well.” The Angel pushed the brightly colored container decorated with Yorkshire Terriers into Crowley’s hands.

They frowned, fully intending to chuck them in the bin once they returned home.

__________

The next evening there came a knock on your door. 

Surprise was evident on your face as you opened the door and saw Crowley standing outside. Their Bentley was parked behind them, in a red zone, and the biscuit tin was tucked under their arm.

They passed it to you, “We’ve finished them.”

“Oh, already? I take it you enjoyed them.”

They shrugged, avoiding your gaze, “Can’t say, the Angel got to them first.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to make even more next time,” you replied with a chuckle.

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea,” they murmured.

A few seconds crawled by and you cleared your throat to break the silence.

“Would you like to come in?”

They immediately stepped back, “Oh, no I’ve got to get going. There’s a hospital that needs burning, lots of children to make orphans. Work stuff.”

“Right, of course,” you laughed softly, “carry on then.”

As their Bentley roared down the road with Queen’s “Mr. Fahrenheit” blasting from the speakers you hugged the empty tin close to your chest and smiled.


	5. A Divine Confession

“Oh, Az,” Your face was pink with laughter, “You really went through all that trouble for crepes?”

“Not just any crepes, [Y/N]. Authentic late eighteenth century crepes direct from the source! Surely you understand why I could not miss the opportunity,”

You sipped your tea and smiled, “I bet they were divine.”

“I have failed to find any since that are even a remote comparison,” The Angel sighed wistfully.

The book shop was silent aside from your idle chatter. Seeing as it was a Tuesday Aziraphale had no intention of opening which left plenty of time for them to regale you with tales from the past.

“So Crowley actually helped you escape then? That seems rather out of character for them.”

“Oh, yes, they have come to my aid for more than they would dare admit. Despite what they would have you believe Crowley is actually rather--” the Angel leaned forward, lowering their voice to a whisper, “n-i-c-e.”

“Nice?” You repeated only to be shushed in earnest.

“You mustn't say that too loud! It makes them terribly cross.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you smirked, wondering at how many good deeds the Demon had performed.

You shifted in your seat, brushing crumbs from your lap, and voiced the question that had been lingering in your mind.

“Say, Az, why is it that you and Crowley have stayed on Earth so long? I can understand you have jobs to do and it must be entertaining to watch history unfold, but don’t you ever get the urge to--you know--go back?”

A shadow passed over the Angel’s face and their gaze darted upwards before responding.

“How much do you know about Angels, [Y/N]?”

“Not much,” You confessed, “but I imagine it isn’t all lounging on clouds and harp playing.”

“No,” their voice was gravely quiet, “not exactly.” 

They began to fidget with the buttons on their vest, clearly distressed.

“We’re soldiers. We follow God’s orders as they pertain to the great plan and question nothing. Any sign of doubt or resistance is cause for punishment.”

You frowned, “Punishment?”

“Oh, yes,” you noticed their hands were trembling now, “Angels can be most unkind when the mood strikes them.”

Reaching out to Az you took their hand in yours and squeezed. “You don’t have to say anymore, I quite understand.”

They nodded and drew a deep breath.

“I am very glad you did stay otherwise I would never have gotten to meet someone so wonderful as you.” You added, trying to bring comfort.

They smiled, eyes watery, “Thank you, my dear.”

__________

The following week brought another knock at the door of your flat. You had a fairly good idea of who it might be, although, they were earlier than usual.

You set your brush down and wiped your hands quickly on your smock, hurrying to answer it.

Crowley stood on the other side of the threshold with the familiar biscuit tin tucked under their arm. This had become a pattern of sorts over the last month. Every time you baked for them Crowley would appear a day or so later and return the tin. It was always empty, but they swore they hadn’t eaten a single one because Az hogged them all. This would inevitably lead to more baking on your part.

You didn’t mind this little game of back and forth. It meant Crowley went out of their way to show up at your door and that was practically a “thank you” coming from them. 

This time, as they passed you the tin, they seemed rather amused by something.

“What is it?”

“You’ve got paint in your hair.” What they failed to mention was how charming they found the sight of your paint-streaked person.

You laughed, “Oh, yeah that happens a lot when I’m working. Come in, I’ll show you my latest commission.”

You left the door agape and stepped back. Crowley had thus far never set foot in your apartment despite their mounting curiosity. The demon didn’t want to give the impression that they were interested in your livelihood. After a few seconds of indecision they ambled inside, the picture of indifference.

You ushered them over to the easel where they recoiled upon seeing your half-finished work.

“Why is that dog dressed like a pirate?”

“Well, their owner has a fondness for all things seaworthy and I thought it suited the personality of a Retriever since they’re natural swimmers.” You explained.

They squinted at the painting, mouth hanging open, and looked back to you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You chuckled, “This is what I do for a living. People want to immortalize their pets in a playful manner and I make that dream a reality.”

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard," they scoffed, gazing around your sitting room where other animal portraits were strewn about.

“Isn’t it, though?” You smiled proudly, “Who would’ve thought I’d get to combine my two passions, art and animals, and make a career of it. I can’t have any pets myself, of course, I’m highly allergic. Painting them sort of makes it feel as if they’re my own for a time.”

“Must you be so disgustingly good-hearted?” They muttered, picking up a handful of sketches lying on the sofa.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Crowley.” You smirked, watching them carefully.

You couldn’t help but recall your conversation with Aziraphale. If Heaven was as ruthless as the Angel had made it seem you couldn’t even begin to imagine the atrocities of Hell. Crowley had chosen to stay on Earth as well. Perhaps, similar to Az, they thought it a far better alternative. Increasingly you were led to realize that these two were far more human than not.

“You’re staring.” 

You blinked several times, shaken from your thoughts, “Sorry, I just remembered something.”

Moving over to a secondary easel you uncovered a current work in progress.

“I wanted to show you this.”

“Is that the Angel?” It was a rhetorical question. The likeness was near perfection, right down to the gold pocket watch tucked in their vest pocket.

“Yes, it’s going to be a surprise for Aziraphale to celebrate our friendship.”

You suddenly rounded on the Demon, “Don’t even think of spoiling this for them. Promise me you won’t mention it, not so much as a word.”

“Yeah, all right. I’ll keep your bloody secret,” they shook their head, torn between exasperation and amusement.

You beamed, “Thanks, sweetheart.”


	6. An Ethereal Friendship

“I’m so sorry, Az,” you sniffled, “I’m afraid we have to cancel our plans for lunch. I’ve caught a cold or something, and it usually takes me a few days to recover.”

“Oh, dear, are you all right? Do you need anything?” The Angel’s distress was evident through the phone, “Is it serious?”

You stifled a laugh, “No, no, don’t worry about me, please. It’s the change in weather or perhaps I picked up something from one of my clients. It seems I can’t escape a case of the sniffles every now and then, but I assure you I will be fine.”

You appreciated your friend’s concern even if it was a tad unnecessary. To be fair, Aziraphale’s experience with human sickness was probably not a pleasant one. It wasn’t entirely unexpected for the, to be so concerned when what started out as a stomachache for a few people in the 14th century turned into The Bubonic plague.

“Well, I’d still feel better if there was something I could do. What about soup? Humans find soup most comforting when sick, is that correct?”

This time your laughter escaped, “Yes, Az, soup would be lovely.”

“Consider it done,” they replied and you could almost see the delighted twinkle in their eyes.

There was some commotion on their end of the line and a voice that sounded suspiciously like Crowley’s. You blew your nose with a tissue and felt relieved that neither of them were present to see you in such a state.

“Sit tight, my dear, we will have it to you in a jiffy.” 

“We?” You sat up, scattering cough drops on the floor, a look of mortification on your face.

There was a click as Az hung up their rotary phone and you gulped. 

“Oh, no.”

__________

You weren’t sure what Aziraphale had meant by 'we', but you sincerely hoped it did not mean that they and the demon were planning a trip to your apartment. Tissues littered the floor beneath your feet and blankets were piled high into a makeshift den on your couch. The whole room smelled of eucalyptus that pumped from a humidifier in an attempt to clear your sinuses. You didn’t need a mirror to know that your nose was as red as a certain reindeer.

Perhaps Aziraphale would do the sensible thing and order soup from a local restaurant. That way it would be delivered to you by a complete stranger. Someone who wouldn’t care about your haggard appearance and subsequently forget about it in a few hours.

It’s not that you really minded if they saw you in disarray, but as two otherworldly creatures who were immune to the various inconveniences of being human you were worried they might find you gross.

It was silly to think, but the insecurity lingered nonetheless. Despite the friendship you shared with them you were all but convinced that you were one paper cut or bad hair day away from being deemed a bothersome human, a liability, that they no longer wished to converse with.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an incoming text on your cell phone. Picking it up from the coffee table you were a bit shocked to see Crowley’s name with the accompanying message, “Permission to enter?”

While Aziraphale seemed to prefer technology that was more suited to the early 20th century, Crowley had embraced modern day devices much to your amusement.

“What are you, a vampire?” You replied, thinking this must be some sort of joke on his part.

The next moment your door unlatched and in sauntered the demon.

“Bloody hell,” You jumped up from the sofa, clutching a blanket in your arms.

“I was trying to be polite,” they grumbled, “it was a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question.”

“How about telling me you’re going to darken my doorstep in the first place, Crowley?” 

You sat back down with a huff and did your best to convey a general look of annoyance. 

“Not all sunshine and daisies when we’re sick, are we?” They smirked.

“You wouldn’t be either if you could--you know--actually be sick.”

“It’s not bad, is it?” They asked, genuine concern seeping into their casual tone.

You paused, your gaze softening, “No, it’s not, I promise. Humans get colds all the time. It’s just terribly inconvenient is all. I can’t even work on my commissions because I’m sneezing every other minute and my eyes are as leaky as a bad tap.” 

You shrugged, “I’m more likely to die from boredom than anything else.”

Crowley perked up, “I could make it go away, just a snap and you’re back to painting corgis in tuxedos.” 

“No,” you said firmly, “no miracles. We’ve been over this, I don’t want you or Az getting in trouble because of me.” 

“It’s hardly a miracle though, is it? More of a speedy recovery--”

“Crowley.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“All right, fine, stay miserable then. I was only asking for the Angel’s sake, they're going to be inconsolable until you’re better again.”

“Nice try, but I won’t be made to feel guilty either. Now, do you have soup for me or not?”

__________

You sighed happily, inhaling the wonderful aroma of vegetable soup. Crowley sat quietly, watching with vague interest as you enjoyed the meal. It was truly delicious, perhaps the best you’d ever had, just like mum used to make--

A thought dawned on you, “Do I even want to know how Aziraphale got this for me?” 

Crowley smiled and it was one laced with mischief. “Probably not.”

Frown lines settled themselves on your forehead, “You two are impossible.”

“Some would say so,” was their reply, “They also asked me to deliver these.”

They dropped a few books on the couch next to you, “You can keep them as long as you like. They should prevent death by boredom.”

Your eyes grew wide, “Oh, Az, you are too sweet!”

You picked one of them up and opened it eagerly, all ready to settle in and read for the next few hours.

You couldn’t help but notice that the demon had made no move to leave.

“Erm, Crowley, what are you doing?”

“Waiting.” 

“For what?”

“You to get better,” they said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You realize that will take a few days--”

“The Angel said not to leave your side until they close the shop at which point they will stop by and take over.”

You stared at them in disbelief.

“Like I said, inconsolable,” they arched a brow, “So if I were you I would try a little harder on the recovery front, eh, sweetheart?”

You smiled, realizing now that your doubts were unfounded. As ridiculous as you sometimes told yourself it was, these two truly cared about you regardless of your human limitations. The knowledge of it gave you a warm, comforting glow in your chest.

“I’ll try my best,” you snuggled into your cocoon of blankets, secretly hoping that your symptoms would persist long enough to have Crowley visit again tomorrow.


	7. A Heavenly Evening

“It’s going to be fine,” you muttered, stirring the contents of a saucepan with unusual force, “It’s all going to be just fine.”

You were in the middle of preparing dinner for yourself and Crowley who was due to arrive in twenty minutes. If they arrived that is. You were doubtful as to whether they were even going to show up despite Aziraphale’s best efforts to reassure you.

You had confided in the Angel about your wish to do something for Crowley as a way of expressing gratitude for their company while you were sick. The Demon had hardly left your side during the week claiming that Az would have their head if they didn’t stay.

Only afterwards, upon consulting with your friend, did you discover that it was Crowley who insisted upon watching over you while Az was at the shop. 

“I was all set to close for a few days, yet Crowley was most determined to provide their assistance.” They’d told you in confidence.

You busied yourself with setting the table for two. Dinner had felt a little formal, but Aziraphale had thought it a wonderful idea and you fancied yourself a decent cook. Still, perhaps you were blowing this out of proportion. A simple card or tin of biscuits would have most likely been a sufficient ‘thank you’. Yes, Crowley had wanted to spend time with you, but that hardly signified a fondness or liking. 

Just because your personal feelings had ceased to fade, growing stronger each time you happened upon them, didn’t mean they reciprocated the affection. Even their response to your invitation had been impartial, neither interested or repulsed so far as you could tell. At most, they probably found you amusing for a human. Something to occupy their time when Aziraphale was busy, nothing more.

It didn’t matter though, you were going to see this through regardless because you wanted them to know you were appreciative. Considerate deeds should not go unnoticed. You only hoped you didn’t make a complete fool of yourself in the process.

It was five minutes to eight and you sent them a text, “Let yourself in.” 

Collapsing onto the sofa with a sigh, there was nothing to do but wait. 

__________

At two minutes past the door swung open. An indifferent Crowley ambled inside clutching a bottle of red wine.

They looked impeccable, as always, their dark shades preventing you from gleaning any sort of expression. The smile on your face could not be hidden, however, as you rose to meet them. Considering you half expected them not to show this was going rather well so far.

You ushered them over to the table, chattering about trivial matters to fill the silence, and turned to the kitchen where dinner was waiting. In doing so you failed to notice the affectionate smile Crowley aimed in your direction. 

By the time you had returned, arms laden with pots of pasta and sauce, their expression was once again completely neutral.

“I settled on Italian,” you explained as you dished out a serving into their plate and yours, “I’m afraid I can’t make much else.”

Crowley gave a non committal grunt and poured the dark port wine into their glass. They tipped the bottle towards you, but you quickly placed a hand over your own glass. 

“I’m, erm--” you hesitated under their inquiring gaze, “not much of a drinker.”

“Well, what’s the harm in one glass? Just a nip can’t hurt.” 

Their words were mischievous--dangerous even. 

You reluctantly removed your hand, determined to be a good host, and watched with growing dread as they filled it to the brim.

“Right then,” they settled back, leaving their meal untouched, “what’s this new painting you’ve got going?”

__________

“That is SO unfair,” your words were slurred. A side effect of the nearly empty glass next to your plate. “You were really there? You got to see Queen perform in 1985 at one of the most iconic concerts of the century?”

“Darling, who do you think got them on the lineup? That performance wouldn’t exist without me.”

“Ugh,” you sighed dramatically, “I’d give anything to have been there.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Jumping up from the table, you nearly toppled your chair, and trotted over to the stack of vinyls in your living room.

You began searching the pile frantically until you reached the album you most wanted to hear. Your hands swayed slightly as you placed it onto the record player with excess care.

Crowley watched you with amusement. They were curious to see whether or not your behavior was truly altered by the influence of alcohol, seeing as it had hardly any affect on their own unless consumed in alarming dosages. They were not disappointed. As it turned out, you were a total lightweight.

The first notes of Queen’s “Another One Bites The Dust” trickled into the air and you began to dance along. Your movements were well timed, but not much could be said for your coordination. Not that Crowley was one to talk. The demon's dance moves were better left in the decade of 1970 where they wouldn’t harm anyone.

Still, there was no denying the satisfaction Crowley felt as you belted out the lyrics. The way your limbs moved purposely through the space, the casual wink you gave them, your expression of contentment; all of it brought a grin to their face that refused to leave. They figured you wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning anyway.

Aided by the wine, you hardly noticed that Crowley's meal had gone uneaten. They were touched by your offer and didn’t have the heart to tell you that Demons didn’t need to eat. Angels didn’t either; Aziraphale’s consumption of food was purely indulgent.

By the time you sobered up enough to clear the table Crowley was inclined to consider the evening a success. Blame it on their demon nature, but they truly reveled in getting you to loosen up. You were usually so stiff around them and they were certain there was a more untamed side to unearth.

Even so, they weren’t prepared for what came next. You were setting the clean dishes aside to dry and Crowley was eyeing the ice cream you had set out for dessert. Silence drifted between you for a few minutes as you busied yourself with washing up. Turning to them suddenly, you gave a smile that unnerved them. There was a boldness in your eyes they were not accustomed to. It seemed as though you had made up your mind about something.

“I know that you stayed of your own accord,” you spoke with confidence, “when I was under the weather, I mean.” 

They raised a brow, “Are you going somewhere with this?”

You laughed, undeterred by their burning stare.

“I really appreciate it is all,” your cheeks were flushed, but you were completely coherent, “it made me think that you might care for me.”

Crowley scoffed, avoiding your gaze. Before they could think of a response, one laced with denial, they felt a gentle touch on their face.

Your hand, soft and warm, was lightly cupping their jaw. You moved nearer, closing the distance.

They didn’t trust themselves to speak. They didn’t entirely understand what was happening or why they wanted it to continue.

“I care about you too,” you whispered and kissed their cheek.

The warmth of your lips lingered for a few seconds after you pulled away.

You noticed that they had gone very still and you frowned, “Was that too much? If I’ve done something wrong you can tell me--”

“No.” 

Their voice was so quiet you doubted your ears for a moment. Then you noticed that Crowley’s gaze was trained on your hand still hovering, unsure, in the space between your bodies.

Trusting your instinct, desperately hoping that the alcohol in your system wasn’t obscuring your judgement, you answered their silent request. This time you let your fingers gently trace the line of their jaw before moving lower to settle on their shoulder. Leaning close, ever so carefully, you brought your head to rest on their chest. 

Crowley didn't move throughout this exchange, savoring the contact with a sort of sacred reverence. They couldn't reciprocate, not yet, nor were they able to express what it meant to them. You sensed this and you didn't mind. For now, this was just fine.

For Crowley, it was a new beginning.


	8. A Transcendent Surprise

“So, are we going to tell Az?”

You were nestled in the passenger seat of Crowley’s Bentley as they raced down the narrow roads of Central London. It was Sunday morning and the streets were mercifully empty allowing the vehicle to do a comfortable 130 Kilometers per hour. 

The two of you were currently en route to Aziraphale’s book shop. The painting you had labored over for months was at last complete and it was time to surprise the Angel with the finished product.

The demon glanced at you, mouth parted slightly in confusion, “Tell them what?”

“About us,” you gestured vaguely, “the fact that we’re spending so much time together.”

You watched Crowley’s brow furrow as they shrugged with supposed indifference.

“I can’t see why it would matter.”

You were silent for a moment, gathering your thoughts.

“We don’t have to call it anything, you know I don’t care about labels, but it’s just a matter of time before Az realizes that something is different.”

“Yeah,” Crowley admitted with some reluctance, “I suppose you’re right.”

Their shaded gaze darted between you and the road.

“So, you’ll be telling them then? You’re much better with that sort of thing, really.”

“Talking?” 

“Well, you and the Angel are always having heart to hearts, going on and on about your--feelings--and what not.”

You chuckled at the grimace on the demon’s face, as if the word left a bad taste in their mouth.

“All right, I’ll let you sit this one out, but you owe me.”

You resumed gazing out the window even though it was difficult to discern anything at the speed you were traveling. Despite your nonchalance, the topic of your affinity for Crowley had been troubling you for some time. 

You two had been together, for lack of a better word, almost one month and thus far had seemed to avoid any suspicion from your mutual angelic companion.

It wasn’t that you wanted to hide anything from Az, the very idea of keeping a secret from them made you rather nauseous. You just weren’t sure how they were going to respond to the notion of the demon and human they considered friends to be in, for all intents and purposes, a relationship.

You had a sneaking suspicion that this was exactly the concern on Crowley’s mind as well. Your last wish was to come between them. They had been through so much together and went way back, quite literally.

You could only hope that Aziraphale would be able to understand. 

__________

Crowley was at a loss. It was a sensation the demon was loathe to experience, one of the worst ones possible for an immortal being, and you were to blame. They just couldn’t understand why you were different. You were a human. Not even a particularly interesting one. There had been other humans, not often, but it wasn’t completely unheard of. So why was everything with you so completely--unexpected?

To say that Crowley was skeptical of you at the start would be a massive understatement. Aziraphale was far more likely to form bonds with humans and this often landed them in a load of trouble. The Angel’s naïve and trusting nature could be easily taken advantage of, however, that didn’t seem to be the case with you. Indeed, your intentions were nothing but sickly sweet and pure.

Case in point, the current situation you had roped them into. You were determined to make such a big fuss over celebrating your friendship with the Angel and the sight of you hovering around the bookshop with anticipation made the demon shake their head in exasperation.

The corners of their mouth threatened to curl into a smile. Come to think of it, they had been smiling a lot more these days.

“All right, are you ready?” You were in the back room of Az’s shop, guiding them by the shoulders until you both stood in front of the painting.

Aziraphale nodded eagerly, eyes shut tight at your request.

“Indeed, I dare say I haven’t been this excited since I learned to dance the Gavotte!”

You glanced to Crowley who was watching the scene with an air of curious amusement. They nodded towards you, urging you to get on with it.

"Go ahead and open your eyes,” you called out, squeezing their shoulders lightly.

The Angel obeyed and was greeted by the striking self portrait you had spent hours upon hours crafting. Their gaze widened as their mouth fell open in shock.

“My goodness, is that me? Well, of course it is, I just--” Az seemed unable to articulate their thoughts, “my dear, this is exquisite! It combines the stark realism of Vermeer with the playful expressionism of Manet!”

“I hope it isn’t too much, I just noticed that you don’t have many photographs and I thought you might appreciate something a bit more classic,” you explained somewhat shyly.

“It is absolutely wonderful, [Y/N], I can’t thank you enough,” Az gushed.

You smiled widely and hugged the Angel, giving them a peck on the cheek. 

Crowley cleared their throat, interrupting your conversation, and you took this as your cue to change the subject.

“Shall we see how it looks in the front of the shop?”

You carried the portrait out towards the center of the rotund space and looked around for a suitable space to display it.

After a few minutes of debate, you and Az settled on a spot and stepped back to admire your handiwork.

"The lighting in here really brings out the color in your features," you commented, "that's what I was hoping for."

"However did you manage to match the colors of my clothing so expertly?" Az wondered aloud.

"An artist never reveals their secrets," you teased before clearing your throat, "say, Az, there's something else I wanted to talk to you about. It's concerning, erm, Crowley and me."

Aziraphale gave you a knowing look, “Ah, yes, you two have been spending quite a bit of time together haven’t you?”

“Yes, actually,” you were surprised by their perception, “I just wanted to make sure you were all right with that.”

“Why in heaven’s name wouldn’t I be? I think it’s wonderful that you have become such good friends. You seem to be a rather good influence on them.” 

“Oh, well, you see we’re a bit more than friends,” your face was growing uncomfortably warm, “when we had dinner last month things sort of, erm, escalated.”

The Angel’s face was comically blank for a moment before realization set in.

“Oh--oh my,” they fell into the nearest chair with a huff, retrieving a handkerchief from their pocket and proceeding to fan themselves with it.

“It’s nothing like that,” you rushed forward to kneel beside them, “we haven’t done anything, you know Angels and Demons don’t even have any--oh hell, what I mean is, erm,” you covered your face with your hands and took a deep breath.

When you had gathered the nerve to look at Aziraphale once more their face was full of confusion.

“Listen, Crowley and I have developed feelings for each other of a more romantic nature, that’s all. It happens between humans all the time, you must know that.”

“Yes, I am quite familiar with the couplings of humans," they paused, glancing to the back of the shop where Crowley was most definitely eavesdropping, “but this is rather unexpected.” 

“Are you upset? Oh, please don’t be,” you clasped their hands in yours, “you are my dearest friend and I couldn’t stand it if I came between you and Crowley. I just want things to be like they always have, you two mean so much to me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, this is hardly anything to be upset about. I was just taken aback for a moment, however, if you are truly happy to be united with Crowley in such a manner then, I offer you my congratulations."

You smiled with watery eyes, “Thank you, Az."

The Angel leaned forward in earnest, keeping their voice low, "You're quite sure there wasn't any tempting on Crowley's part?"

"Not everything I do is an attempt to procure souls for the man downstairs, Angel," Crowley was leaning against the far wall, trying their best to convey a look of disdain. 

You could sense a bit of tension between the two so you quickly made a suggestion, "What do you say we grab something to eat? I'm starved!"


	9. A Demonic Reveal

“Are you done yet?”

“Nearly,” you muttered, hand poised over the canvas.

You ignored Crowley’s irritable grumblings and added another layer of paint to the portrait. They were lounging on the sofa in your flat at your bequest while you attempted to capture their image.

After a few minutes you set the brush down and stretched your arms skyward. 

“All right, that should just about do it. I can finish the rest on my own.”

“Finally,” Crowley sighed, “I don’t understand why I was made to sit around when you managed to paint the Angel without so much as a picture.”

“I just like looking at you,” you replied simply, giving them a smile.

The demon pretended not to hear this and sauntered over to the easel. Hovering over your shoulder they scrutinized the painting with a furrowed brow.

“I’m going to keep working on the hair, needs more red.” 

“You’re not going to show this to anyone right? Not even Aziraphale?”

You laughed, “No, this is just for me. Perhaps I’ll put it by my bed, or better yet on the mantel.”

Crowley sneered, “Oh, that’s very cute.”

Gathering up the soiled brushes you moved to the sink and began rinsing them.

“I do wish you would let me paint you without your glasses.”

The statement was innocent enough, but something in Crowley’s demeanor seemed to shift.

They stiffened, “What difference would that make?”

“Well, quite a bit actually,” you considered this for a moment, “the eyes really complete someone.”

“Spare me the poetry, sweetheart.”

“It’s true,” your tone was defensive, “if you want to know the truth of a person then you look at their eyes.”

“Good thing I’m a demon, then.” Crowley drummed their fingers on the table, hoping you would drop the subject.

“You know what I mean, Crowley,” you shook the brushes and laid them out to dry, “I understand that this is a sensitive issue with you, but you know you can trust me, right?”

Crowley’s hesitation made your heart sink.

“It’s not really a matter of trust,” they stalled, “it’s more about perception.”

“You think something so simple would alter my perception of you? You’re a demon for Pete’s sake,” you frowned, “and it clearly doesn’t bother Az.”

“Well, it’s not like I had a choice back then, glasses weren’t invented at the start of the world were they?” 

“That’s beside the point--”

“Look, can we not talk about this now? We’re supposed to meet the Angel for dinner and if we don’t leave soon the traffic will be hell,” they gestured to the door.

A sigh escaped your lips, “you go on to dinner, I’m not hungry.”

“Okay, now you’re just lying,” Crowley stood up and grabbed their jacket from the coat rack.

“Yes, Crowley, I’m lying because I would like to be alone for the rest of the evening,” 

“But--”

“Please,” you cut them off, “give Az my apologies.”

__________

The following week found you in Crowley’s flat for the first time. They had invited you over on the pretense of letting you peruse their superior vinyl collection, but you knew this was the demon’s way of making amends after your argument.

You hadn’t managed to stay upset with Crowley for long seeing as you lacked the proper conviction to hold a grudge. Part of you suspected it was just too soon to be expecting this much from them. You had hardly been testing the whole relationship idea for two months and things hadn’t exactly been skyrocketing in that department.

As it turned out Crowley was rather keen on physical affection, the only problem was they had no clue how to initiate it. Still, you were undeterred and opted to take any opportunity to show the demon closeness. Running a hand through their hair, resting your head on their shoulder, or gently taking their hand as you two strolled down the street. All of these were well received and made you hopeful that one day Crowley might feel comfortable enough to return the gesture.

“This particular shade of grey is rather calming,” you noted as you gazed at the entirely monotone space, “I see you’re quite a minimalist.”

“I prefer the term essentialist,” they replied.

“And this--” you gestured to the throne decked in red velvet that dominated the room, “is essential?”

As if to prove their point, Crowley settled in the chair with a flourish and grinned, “you bet.”

After flipping through the meticulously sorted stack of records and selecting Queen’s ‘The Works’ you proceeded to explore the rest of the apartment.

“Oh my god, these are gorgeous,” you exclaimed as you approached several towering plants that were a deep shade of green.

Some of the leaves were larger than your face and you couldn’t believe that Crowley had the patience to cultivate such wonderful flora.

“Don’t compliment my plants, I can’t have them getting egos,” they called from the other room.

You hadn’t the slightest idea what they were talking about, but you left regardless.

“I would love to have plants in my flat, but I’m--”

“--highly allergic,” Crowley finished, “Is there anything that won’t send you into anaphylactic shock?”

“Funnily enough, shellfish,” 

“You are one of the most unfortunate humans I’ve ever met,” was their reply.

“Yet you still love me,” you added, not expecting a response.

“I suppose I do.”

You froze, one hand suspended in the air over the globe on the desk. You glanced at Crowley, gauging their expression. The demon wore a small albeit amused smile.

You couldn’t help the grin that overtook your features as you said, “I’m going to remember that.”

“Remember what? What did I say?” they asked, feigning ignorance.

“Nice try,” you stepped around the desk and approached them slowly.

Crowley’s gaze followed your movements intently as you drew closer.

You leaned in, bracing yourself against the side of the throne, and whispered, “I love you, Anthony J. Crowley.”

There was a pause, during which Crowley contemplated something with enormous intensity. If there was ever a time then it had to be now.

“May I?” you asked, beating them to it.

They nodded and you carefully lifted Crowley’s dark shades from their face.

Crowley waited for the inevitable gasp of shock, disbelief, even disgust that was sure to follow. They had heard it all before. Your response, however, was entirely different.

“They’re beautiful,” you said, slightly awed.

Crowley’s eyes were extraordinary, a shade of yellow so vivid they rivaled even the demon’s flaming hair.

You cupped their face with your free hand, wanting to savor the moment, and found yourself leaning in even further.

When your lips met Crowley’s they realized you couldn’t have chosen a better moment. It was exactly what they wanted.

It was the first real kiss you two had shared and you were delighted to feel Crowley return the affection.

Pulling away slowly, you rested your forehead against theirs and smiled.

“Remind me to come ‘round more often,” you murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really went overboard on the fluff with this chapter, hope y'all don't mind :3


End file.
